


Frenchmen getting wine drunk? In MY anti-terrorism unit?

by gayoperatorgunclub (Justacityboy)



Series: doclion but get this: they're married [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Rainbow Six Pub Night, a pure of heart dumb of ass himbo in this and i think that's very sexy of me, but do you want realism or do you want doc willingly getting wine drunk in public, everyone's probably a lil ooc, gustave is just, olivier is a horny bitch but he's also in love, rambling about how much you love your husband while you sit on his lap, this is so cheesy but idgaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justacityboy/pseuds/gayoperatorgunclub
Summary: Olivier's always enjoyed fucking Gustave stupid, but what happens when he finds out there's more than one way to reduce his husband to Peak Idiot?
Relationships: Olivier "Lion" Flament/Gustave "Doc" Kateb
Series: doclion but get this: they're married [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772920
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Frenchmen getting wine drunk? In MY anti-terrorism unit?

**Author's Note:**

> hey!!! i know this is like, my first work in this fandom, but if you like this and decide you want more, please don't hesitate to follow my tumblr, gayoperatorgunclub ! i've got plenty of ideas for more little one-shots like this, and if you're interested, i'll see about doing requests and stuff!! i know it's pretty empty rn but i created it last night so now we just gotta let it marinate and hope my r6s hyperfixation lasts longer than the others i've had throughout quarantine. 
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy this lil one-shot and happy Pride! 
> 
> also Black Lives Matter

“Gustave, you know I love it when you get all cuddly and touchy-feely, but if you need something to do with your hands this badly, couldn’t you just play with mine?” 

Gustave froze in his position atop Olivier’s lap, in the middle of squeezing and smooshing at his husband’s face. His already dark eyes were much darker than usual, which only served to make Olivier’s resolve crumble faster with his signature puppy dog eyes (an expression he had used to convince the other GIGN operators to believe him when he said he’d go to bed once the reports were done more times than any of them could count) and it took all of Olivier’s strength to not give in and allow him to continue using his face like Play-Doh while cooing softly in barely intelligible French. 

He’s about to remove Gustave’s hands from his face when the man in question gives him one last squish before mumbling something about wanting to be able to see the rest of the room, so Olivier gently lifts him from his lap, turns him around in the air, and now he can’t see those eyes, thank God. Gustave immediately starts playing with his hands, massaging them, examining them closely, and he’s so entranced that Olivier can finally return to his conversation with Gilles, who has a gleam in his eye that Olivier can’t help but hate on principle. 

Gilles downs the rest of his drink, clears his throat, and Olivier wants to flee, this isn’t going to end well- 

“Gustave, did you know that Olivier is extremely insecure in nearly all facets of life, and seeks constant validation from others as a way to remedy this?” 

And okay, fuck fleeing, he’s about to jump this Everest-looking motherfucker and start the greatest pub brawl in Rainbow history. 

But Gustave is slowly turning around to look him in the eyes, and fuck, okay, he will stay right here because apparently he’s married a weird French-Algerian version of Medusa that doesn’t have snakes for hair but will turn you to stone with a single glance all the same and mon dieu he’s so whipped for this man that he doesn’t even notice Gilles chuckle and leave them alone in the booth and so Olivier’s filter is gone and he blurts out the only coherent thought he ever has when they’re together like this: 

“I’m the luckiest man alive.” 

And Gustave looks confused, his brain slow from the frankly ridiculous amount of wine he’s had tonight and good GOD if he doesn’t look like the sexiest, most adorable person on the planet right now then Olivier will swear celibacy, move to The Vatican and live out the rest of his days preaching the words of our Lord And Savior Jesus Christ Amen Hallelujah. 

But wait, because Gustave’s face has morphed from confusion to incredulity with a metric fuckton of a self-importance and confidence that Olivier has never seen on him before and if he weren’t so horny right now it’d be funny as shit. He opens his mouth to say something but is promptly quieted by Gustave’s finger on his lips, and his very, very drunk husband shushing him. He complies, and after a few moments during which he is undoubtedly attempting to gather the brain cells to formulate a plan and Olivier wants to burst out laughing at just how dumb he looks but manages to reign himself in. As he waits for Gustave’s long awaited proclamation, he takes the time to really take in the sight that is Dr. Gustave “Doc” Kateb. His main conclusion? His husband is cute and sexy as FUCK when he looks dumb like this. Olivier is about to take a picture and send it to Lera when Gustave clears his throat. 

“You,” he slurs, and okay, his accent is considerably thicker than usual, and apparently Olivier, a French man, has a thing for French accents. Intriguing. “Are a liar. I am the luckiest man alive.” He declares with finality, a little nod of his head like he’s just won an argument and Olivier can’t help but tease him, partly because Gustave is adorable like this and he desperately needs more wine-drunk Gustave in his life, and partly because yeah, Gilles was right, he is a bit insecure, and what of it? Gustave seeming ready and willing to list all his favorite things about Olivier is not a very common occurrence, (likely due to the fact that Gustave “values his professionalism above all else” A.K.A: gets really fucking shy when they’re together in public, blushes way too hard at the slightest of compliments, and is just so sweet that Olivier has to restrain himself from shoving his tongue down the man’s throat whenever possible) (Olivier also has it on good authority that Gustave is just as insecure as himself, masks it with his pride and work ethic, and is just such an emotionally repressed nerd that Olivier has to hold back his grins whenever he waxes poetic about whatever feature of Gustave’s he’s decided to obsess over today and Gustave blushes so hard and manages to mumble out something along the lines of “you look nice too” or “merci beaucoup, but could you please stop groping my ass in the dairy aisle?”. It’s cute, trust him) and Olivier is more than ready to jump at this opportunity, so he says “Oh really? Why’s that, mon amour?” And Gustave fucking swoons and this has been the best decision of Olivier’s life, he may as well use a magic 8 ball from here on out. 

Gustave is mumbling something against his chest, and has somehow managed to turn himself back around so that they’re facing each other again and Olivier can’t resist, he just can’t, so he asks Gustave to repeat himself, he couldn’t hear him over Adriano pouring his heart and soul into the karaoke version of I Will Always Love You while Seamus and Aria look on in abject amusement. Gustave sighs, sits up, looks him straight in the eyes, and says “It’s because I’m married to you!” And Olivier can’t control himself any longer, and slams his tongue down this poor man’s throat. 

Gustave fucking whines into the kiss, and if it weren’t for oxygen, you wretched element you, Olivier would gladly keep kissing him forever for the chance to hear the sound again. He’s heard it before of course, but that was always in the privacy of their own home which is more like a mansion in the rural, lightly forested areas around Hereford because Olivier refuses to marry a man as rich as Gustave and live in his dingy little flat. Plus, with their own home, Gustave has space for the plants which he loves so dearly, so really, this was a win-win situation for both of them. But alas! Throughout their relationship, Olivier has heard Gustave whine in their home more times than he can count, but never in public, much less around their colleagues. He must be really fucking drunk. But wait, Gustave is pushing him away and glaring at him, though it lacks bite, as he’s, you know, perched on his lap and looking absolutely wrecked, but if there’s one thing Olivier’s learned during their time together, it’s to not get between Gustave and his goal, whether it be to break the world record for lack of sleep, or number of times he can bend over and show off his ass during a regular 9-5 work day, whenever Gustave decides he’s going to do something, he does it. It’s truly admirable. 

“You aren’t handsome. Non, shhhh, let me speak. Handsome does not begin to describe you. You are the ideal human being. When Da Vinci created the Vitruvian man, it was you. You are living proof that humanity has stopped evolving because how could anyone or anything ever be better than you? Not to mention how nice you are, once you’re comfortable with people.” Gustave is blushing slightly and he’s started playing with Olivier’s hands again, but fuck if this isn’t the sweetest thing ever, so Olivier keeps rapt attention on his husband. 

“You’re the best cuddler in the world, the peak of human comedy, you care about people but are too proud to show it so you just worry yourself silly about them.” At this, Olivier snorts, because Gustave does the exact same thing and he knows it. “Shhhh!! I’m not done, Olivier.” And okay, he just said his name in the exact same tone as when he’s in a Seduction Mood. That’s cool. 

“Every day I wake up and feel your arms around me and I thank Allah for all the blessings I’ve received, for everything I have, and everything we’ll be.” Olivier feels himself smile so genuinely it’s kinda painful, but so what? He’s proud that Gustave feels comfortable enough around him and others to be more open about his religion, and he’s just so happy for his husband, is that such a crime? 

“Whenever I think I’ll be up late working on reports and files, I think of you alone in our bed and I tell myself that I’ll be able to get done with the paperwork tomorrow.” Gustave pauses, and Olivier takes note of the fact that his voice is getting steadily more slurred, though still understandable, and there’s the clear signs of exhaustion creeping onto his features, so Olivier decides that he’ll let Gustave continue for five more minutes before he starts running his fingers through his dark, wavy hair, a surefire way to get him to fall asleep, then pick him up, say their goodbyes to everyone, and carry him out to the car, set him down gently in the passenger seat and buckle him up, then drive them home, taking every opportunity to look at this gorgeous, sweet, lovely man who he’s lucky enough to call his husband. 

“I’m just so glad that we reconciled and decided to act on our emotions in a more positive way than arguing all the time, because these past couple of years with you have by far been the best, happiest, most amazing years of my life.” 

He leans in to kiss Olivier sweetly and Olivier can’t help but reciprocate, taking this opportunity to begin massaging his husband’s scalp, which is met with a groan of approval and Gustave going completely limp in his arms. They pull apart, and Gustave rests his head on Olivier’s shoulder while Olivier continues his ministrations. Soon, he feels Gustave’s breath even out, and he waits a minute more before cautiously extracting himself from their booth, careful not to jostle his husband too much, though he’s still got a hand stroking his hair, so he should be fine. He makes his rounds, gently threatens Gilles’ life should he ever pull something like that again, bids Emmanuelle and Julien adieu, uses his slightly free arm to give Lera a hug goodbye, waves to everyone else, and exits the pub. 

Following his plan, he places Gustave in the passenger seat, buckles him up, and gets in himself, making certain to turn down the radio, even though he, of all people, would know that once Gustave actually falls asleep nothing short of armageddon or his internal clock telling him it’s 6 a.m. on a work day will wake him. The drive home is peaceful, and, true to his word, he takes every opportunity to look at Gustave and just enjoy it. He truly loves this man, and he’ll shout it from the rooftops just to be sure everyone knows how happy he is. He pulls into their driveway, careful not to hit any of the farm cats that congregate around their home, and greets each of them with pets and belly rubs, refilling the little food dish he keeps near their front door as he collects his husband and brings them both inside. He climbs up the stairs to their bedroom, lays Gustave on the bed, and begins undressing him. Unbutton his shirt, take off his pants, shoes and socks first though mon dieu Olivier use your brain. Finally, he spends anywhere between 5 minutes to half an hour ogling the man lying peacefully before him because his thighs and ass look more defined than usual, was it leg day for him today? Olivier doesn’t really care, just decides to undress himself and get under the covers before pulling Gustave over to lay on top of him, chest to chest, and pulls the covers up around them, kisses his temple, and whispers “Bonne nuit, mon amour. Je t'aime beaucoup.” Before drifting off into a deep, blissful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> hey you made it!! if you feel the spirit move you, go on ahead and leave a comment and/or kudos! you have no idea how much it motivates me to write something whenever i read a comment left by someone who enjoyed a thing that i wrote! no matter what, thanks for taking the time to read this, and be sure to have a great day!!!


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